


The Right Kind of Spicy

by SoftSquish



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Belly Kink, Chubby Natasha Romanov, F/F, Waiters & Waitresses, Weight Gain, but i mean pretty idealized cause this is primarily a kink fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 07:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftSquish/pseuds/SoftSquish
Summary: Sharon has worked at Mandala, a successful Manhattan restaurant for a while now. Her days change when a mysterious, beautiful redhead begins coming into the restaurant daily to wine and dine clients and colleagues. Sharon becomes deeply curious about the woman, and the curiosity only grows as Natasha continues her patronage.Sharon starts to lose her mind when the daily meals start to show up on Natasha's figure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so if you skipped the tags, this is straight up belly kink. This fic will contain like 90% fetishized weight gain, so if you're not a fan of that, you will not have a good time reading this fic. For those of you who are here for the kink, the whole kink and nothing but the kink, enjoy :) 
> 
> unbetad, all mistakes mine.

The first time Natasha came into Mandala, she was alone. It was a slow day. Sharon’s shift was dragging molasses slow, and almost as sticky with the warm afternoon weather and ovens blasting. Sharon perked up at the sound of the hostess, Wanda, seating a customer. The woman flipping through the menu had hair too red to be natural, an emerald green sundress, and a slim, strong body. She was beautiful.

Sharon checked her reflection the best she could in a stainless steel reflection and walked out, hoping she wasn’t too red-faced and sweaty. As she approached the redhead, it became apparent the woman was striking, with full lips, and intelligent eyes. Sharon almost swallowed her tongue when the woman looked up at her.

 

“Hi, I’m Sharon, I’ll be taking care of you today. Is there anything I can get you to drink?” Sharon said, feeling a little breathless. Luckily her waitress instincts had kicked in and saved her from making a fool of herself.

 

“A vodka martini, two olives, and a glass of water to start, please.” The redhead said. Her voice was husky and a little rough, as though she had spent a good portion of her day talking. Sharon was sure she was blushing.

 

“I’ll be right back with those.” Sharon said, hiding her face in her notebook. Sharon retreated gratefully to the bar. Her friend, Steve, was working bar and immediately noticed her state.

 

“You look like a tomato.” He said, crossing his arms across his thick chest.

 

“There’s an absolutely gorgeous woman in the restaurant,” She said, “I mean like gorgeous like wow, hello.” Sharon fanned herself with a drink menu. “She wants a vodka martini with two olives.”

 

“Pull yourself together before you go back out there or you’ll embarrass yourself. You look like you’re gonna start panting or like faint or something. Splash some water on your face, geez.”

 

Sharon pulled her mouth into a grimace and filled a glass of water.

 

The redhead ordered the lime-basil salmon, a glass of pino gris and a slice of lemon pudding cake, eating in silent grace while Sharon suffered. The redhead left a nice tip. Sharon slumped on the bar and moaned dramatically. Steve patted her shoulder awkwardly.

 

“Maybe she’ll come back someday?” he ventured.

“I’m not sure I could handle it if she does.” Sharon said into her elbow.

 

 

The redhead came back the next evening with a handsome man on her arm that didn’t take off his red-tinted sunglasses even in the dim restaurant. Sharon felt an uncomfortable stab of bitter disappointment and jealousy when she saw sunglasses make the redhead smile. Sharon had barely talked to the redhead, let alone made a move. It wasn’t fair of her to feel possessive, but here she was, feeling it. Steve must have seen her staring across the busy restaurant at the redhead. When Sharon gave him a drink order, he said, blandly

 

“Wanda’s in their section she’s checking it out.” He passed Sharon the cocktails she came for.

 

Sharon practically raced back to the bar when she saw Wanda near it.

 

“It’s some kind of business dinner, they’re not a couple. That redhead is a babe by the way! I think she be an interior decorator or something? She was talking about the mood of a room and like colour for a hot minute.” Wanda said, loading up her tray with wine.

 

“Thanks for doing this. A crush like this is really embarrassing for me, so thank you.” Sharon said before she and Wanda separated. Sharon looked over at the redhead, right into her eyes. Sharon looked away quickly, caught staring. She glanced back and saw the redhead was still looking right at Sharon. Or something behind her, no need to get excited over nothing, Sharon told herself.

 

The redhead came back every night that week, always glamorous, always with a handsome man, never in Sharon’s section.

 

“Keep pining like that and you’ll grow roots.” Steve said. Sharon had been staring at the redhead again.

 

“I don’t even know her name, I can’t give up yet. Not while there;s still a mystery.” Sharon said.

 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Steve said lightly.

 

 

The redhead’s regular attendance continued into a second week, at which point the entire front of house staff seemed to know about Sharon’s intense crush. Even the absurdly young new hire, Peter- Sharon didn’t quite understand how he’d managed to get the job, seemed to know about it. Sharon had managed to gather that the woman was not going on dates, but was rather conducting meetings with clients for some type of business having to do with art. On the twelfth day Sharon learned the redhead’s last name.

“I-I think her name is Romanova?” Peter said to the small group of waitstaff gathered around the bar “ like the royal family that got killed but with an A at the end.”

 

“That can’t be a first name.” Sharon said.

 

“Oh its not! Its not, the guy shes with called her Ms. Romanova!” Peter said

 

“Wonder if Anastasia’s her great grandma.” Wanda said dryly.

 

Sharon watched as Peter brought a bottle of rich Malbec to Ms. Romanova. He tripped, but caught himself and the bottle lightning fast. Sharon snorted, ducking her head. The instant later when she brought her head up, the redhead- Romanova, was looking right at her, smiling slightly. Sharon felt her face heat up and hurriedly turned back to the beer she was pouring. Sharon could feel Romanova’s eyes as she walked away with her drink tray.

 

Romanova had come back multiple times with the same man and woman, both stern-faced and dark haired, who after some careful eavesdropping by Sharon, Wanda and Peter, seemed to be her business partners. The man, Barnes, never drank and twitched at loud noises, The woman, Maria, always ordered salads tipped extravagantly, and once spent half an hour yelling at someone over the phone in Spanish while holed up in the bathroom. Romanova seemed at ease with them and smiled easily. Her smiles were soft with them, something Sharon treasured. Romanova was with Barnes and Maria when she talked to Sharon beyond listing that days order.

 

“Sharon, right?” Romanova spoke, her gaze holding Sharon in place where she had been setting down glasses.

 

“Uh, yes. That’s me.” Sharon managed to get out once her brain stopped screaming.

 

“I’ve been dining here for a few weeks now, it’s time I introduce myself. I’m Natasha Romanova. These are my colleagues, Maria Hill and James Barnes.”

 

“uh. Hello!” Sharon waved, awkwardly, and put her hand down quickly. Barnes awkwardly waved back and Maria nodded elegantly. Natasha fixed Sharon with her gaze again.

 

“So, Sharon, what’s the best thing on the menu? In your opinion.” Natasha asked. Sharon fancied that Natasha sounded genuinely interested in Sharon’s opinion, rather than small talk.

 

“Honestly? The pizza. We have a wood oven and the chef really knows how to use it, she uses such interesting ingredient combinations. She makes calzones for the staff sometimes and it’s amazing.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully.

 

“In that case I’ll have the arugula and pistachio pizza.” Natasha said, her soft smile directed right at Sharon.

 

Steve rolled his eyes when Sharon practically floated past the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon visits her aunties, who give the loving advice of 90 year old lesbians of our suffering queer heroine. Sharon then discovers the kink she never knew she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this fic contains fetishized weight gain, if that's not for you, I recommend you turn around because this chapter is the last attempt at plot before we get to the Good Stuff. Unless it's not for you, then it's the ??? stuff.
> 
> unbeta'd again, all mistakes mine.

A little over a month into Natasha’s near daily patronage, Sharon’s two days off lined up with labour day, which Mandala always closed for, giving her a three day weekend. Sharon was grateful for the break and jumped on the chance to spend a few days not on her feet for the better part of seven hours. Even though the front of house manager, Sam Wilson, made sure employees actually got their legally mandated breaks, a rarity in restaurant work, Sharon’s job was demanding and left her tired. Even though the break was welcome, a small part of Sharon twanged at the thought of not seeing Natasha for three whole days. She and Natasha had spoken as often as possible, within the confines of Sharon’s responsibilities.

 

Sharon was becoming increasingly endeared with Natasha as she was, rather than the woman of mystery Sharon had initially daydreamed about. Natasha was genuinely funny, with razor sharp wit, and a surprisingly goofy side. She was also guarded and hard to read. From a few overheard conversations, it seemed Natasha had a brutal side as well as a dorky side, and was willing to pull the rug out from under people.

 

Of course the story Sharon had discovered this from was told by Peter, so it was difficult to tell how much of it, if any, was embellished. Barnes, Maria and Natasha had been talking about someone named Pierce, and Barnes had remarked to Natasha

 

“I’m so glad you stole half his clients.”

 

That didn’t sound… good exactly, but this was based on one out of context snippet of conversation. Then again Wanda, a much more reliable source, had heard something similar, if less direct, about a different person come from the table. Still, Sharon told herself, that didn’t mean much in the face of everything else about Natasha.

 

Sharon woke up early on Saturday and took the subway to Queens. It was about an hour to get to her destination. Sharon found herself drifting in and out of the podcast she was listening to, thinking about Natasha. How her eyes sparkled in the warm lighting. How she smiled soft, and genuine when Sharon told her a horrendous pun. How she kicked her shoes off under the table when she ate with her colleagues. The satisfied moan she made when she tried a particularly tasty dish. Natasha licking ice cream off a spoon, Natasha leaning back, hand lazily draped over her belly, satisfied. Pleasant warmth bloomed between Sharon’s thighs at that last one. Sharon snapped back to the reality of her situation, shoved between two people in a subway car with a suspicious smell coming from one of them. This was not the place to fantasize about a woman she barley knew, let alone to follow the turn her daydream had taken. Sharon nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized her stop was next. How long had she been thinking about Natasha?

 

Sharon approached her great aunt’s house down a neat row of houses with chain link fences and gardens bright in the last gasp of summer. Her great aunt Peggy was waiting on the stoop, mug of tea cradled in hand.

 

“Sharon dear, hello! Come on through, Angela has just finished making lunch, we’re eating out back.”

 

Peggy thrust the tea into Sharon’s hands and locked the front door behind them in one smooth motion. She was moving a little stiffer then the last time Sharon had seen her. Sharon tried not to immediately start worrying, but obviously failed to keep the look entirely off her face. Peggy frowned a little.

 

“I may be old but I don’t need you worrying about me, Angela does enough of that for all of us.” Peggy said.

 

“I know, I know! You can still kick my ass Auntie Peg. I just don’t like seeing you in pain.” Sharon said, a little abashed.

 

“Hmmmph. This is hardly pain.” Peggy muttered something under her breath that sounded very much like ‘I’ve been impaled before’. Sharon tried to put that out of her mind as she followed Peggy through the sunny hallway out to the tiny patio. Her Auntie Angie was spooning pasta in a green sauce into bowls.

 

“Finally! Now we can eat!” Angie said, putting an extra scoop on Peggy’s plate.

“Then you’re going to tell us everything about your life, no holds barred, stadium freestyle.” Angie said with her characteristic energy.

 

“Whatever are you going on about dear?” Peggy said as she sat down.

 

“It’s how the kids talk these days sugar.” Angie said with a wink.

 

Sharon dug in with gusto, savouring her Aunt’s amazing culinary skills. The sweet-sharp basil and creamy goats cheese complimented each other perfectly. She listened to her Aunts banter as she ate, soaking in the familiarity and warmth of the little patio. Sharon finished her bowl and poured herself an Arnold Palmer. She looked around the small garden until the vermillion of Nasturtiums caught her eye. The bright, deep, red was almost the exact shade of lipstick Natasha wore so often.

 

“Peg!” Angie stage whispered, “I know that face! Sharon’s thinkin about some fine young thing.”

 

Sharon felt her cheeks heat up. She took a large swig of her drink, wishing there was alcohol in it.

 

“Why don’t you tell us about this person who’s caught your eye.” Peggy said, primly.

 

“Spill the beans honey!” Angie said the instant Peggy finished speaking.

 

Sharon took a deep breath, and another sip of mocktail.

 

“Well. She’s smart. Like scary smart. And funny, and she smiles like she’s not used to it even though she smiles all the time, at least when I see her. And she knows things about wine and she’s a little bit scary but also wonderful and her name is Natasha and she comes into the restaurant all the time and I can never tell if she’s flirting or just being polite cause she’s a customer and I only see her when I’m working. And I guess she’s working a lot when I see her too.” Sharon gulped air, feeling out of breath. She knew she was blushing down her neck and chest now.

 

“So ask her if she’d like to get coffee! What’s the worst that could happen?” Angie said, gesticulating wildly.

 

“She could get me fired if she was offended. Or shout at me. Or never come to the restaurant again. Or all of those.” Sharon said.

 

“Well dear that could happen. Or she’ll decline politely. Or you could meet someone you genuinely like, whether romantic or platonic.” Peggy added calmly from her place in the shade.

 

“It’s up to you honey. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want, but if it was me I’d rather risk being embarrassed and uncomfortable than regret never taking the risk.” Angie said, laying her hand over Peggy’s.

 

 

Sharon left in the early evening, after a five o’clock dinner and a pleasant sunny afternoon gossiping with her aunts in the dappled sun of the patio Peggy had built in the 90s. Sharon thought on their advice the whole train ride home. By the time she reached her apartment, Sharon had reached a temporary conclusion. She needed more information; this decision could wait a few weeks until she got to know Natasha a little better.

 

 

After a weekend pampering herself, Sharon was ready to head back to work, back to gleaning what little information about Natasha she could. Sharon had put a little more effort than usual into her appearance, wearing a dress and lipstick, even curling her hair a little. Hopefully it lasted through most of her shift, at least until Natasha’s seven pm reservation.

 

Sharon was practically grinding her teeth waiting for her watch to roll forward. The hours before seven dragged by in a monotonous blur of suits and bright summer dresses. When the slowdown between four and five hit, Sharon grabbed a quick meal in a corner of the kitchen. Steve sidled up beside her with a bowl of honeydew and a cup of black coffee. He nudged Sharon with the coffee until she took it.

 

“I don’t know how you eat that stuff.” Sharon said between bites, glaring at the green fruit.

 

“You just have an unrefined palate.” Steve said, popping a cube into his mouth. They finished their snacks just as the last of the evening staff trickled in. Sam came into the kitchen and gathered everyone into the corner.

 

“Alright everyone, we’re fully booked between 7 and 9, for some reason everyone wants to eat on a Tuesday. Everyone’s gonna have to take their breaks before 7:30 or after 9:30. I know, it sucks, but I called Pietro in so we have an extra set of hands. Wanda, You’re in section A, Sharon B, Peter C, Pietro D, Trish E, I’m taking F. And Steve, Jen is helping you out tonight. Breaks cycle as usual, ask me before you head out so I can cover. Go Team!” Sam pumped his fist in the air before turning to the sous chef.

 

The pace of the evening quickly picked up after five finally hit. Sharon felt as though she never actually came to a stop, meaning she almost missed it when Natasha came in. Sharon’s heart caught in her throat when she caught a flash of red, red hair. Sharon looked over the drinks she was placing down and had a perfect view of Natasha laughing, throwing her head back. Sharon’s heart caught even further up her throat. Natasha was in her section; Sharon would get to see her up close. Sharon hurried through a round of food delivery and rushed toward Natasha’s table.

 

“Hello, Welcome, how was your weekend?” Sharon said, relieved to see Maria and Barnes instead of a client of Natasha’s.

 

“It was wonderful, actually, we made a big sale and treated ourselves to some cake and mojitos.” Natasha answered for all of them,

 

“I hope you did something fun as well, I didn’t see you Saturday or Sunday?” Natasha looked at Sharon expectantly, her face curious.

 

“Oh, uh, I visited my aunties and gave myself a hair treatment.” Sharon said. Was she staring at Natasha? Oh god she was staring.

Natasha directed one of her soft, lovely smiles at Sharon.

 

“That sounds lovely, do your aunts live far?” Natasha asked.

 

“Just in Queens. I mean it’s about an hour to get out there, but it’s worth it. Their garden is beautiful and my Auntie Angie’s the best cook. Her mama was from Italy, old family recipes. And new ones, she’s pretty creative.” Sharon said, feeling a little choked,

 

“What can I get you to start?” Sharon said, hiding from her feelings in professionalism.

 

As they gave their orders, Sharon snuck a peek down Natasha’s body, running her eyes quickly along her curves. Sharon paused a little, letting her eyes linger. Was it her imagination or was Natasha looking a little softer than usual? Sharon glanced down again. Natasha’s waist was thicker than Sharon remembered it. Those well-cut trousers had fit quite loose the first time Sharon saw Natasha in them, over a month ago. Natasha’s thighs filled the wide legs, spreading beautifully across the seat, restricted a little by the tight fabric. Her hips were noticeably wider. A small, plump roll was starting to gather under Natasha’s navel and spread around her sides along to her lower back.

 

Natasha looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Sharon noticed that a throbbing had started up between her thighs as she finished writing the drink orders out

 

Sharon retreated with their drink orders, her heart pounding. Natasha had been eating daily at the restaurant, having a drink with every meal and dessert more often than not and a month in, the result was showing. Natasha had gained a noticeable about of weight from eating like she had. Enough for her fashionably loose pants to start to cling to thickening hips and plump thighs and Sharon was more turned on than she’d been in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways in my headcannon, Peggy essentially unleashed her inner tough butch the moment she retired and started building Angie things. Angie will always treasure the first chair Peg ever made, even though she can't sit on it for more than five minutes without losing feeling in her right leg. 
> 
> Also I wasn't kidding in the intro notes, this is basically the end of the attempt at plot. Its trash trash trash from here on out.


End file.
